


Love Punch

by LilTabasco



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Chiccolo - Freeform, F/M, Teacher AU, nerds, school dance chaperones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 21:36:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8684206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilTabasco/pseuds/LilTabasco
Summary: Piccolo got stuck chaperoning the school dance - but Mrs. Son is looking particularly dejected in the corner of the room.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the Chiccolo Week Prompt: AU

The chairs were pushed up all around them, and Piccolo lay sprawled across two of them, long legs curled up crisscross as he stared up at the ceiling. Balloons peppered the rafters, some of them slowly floating downwards, sad shadows of what they had been. Beside him, Chi Chi was nursing a punch cup, looking down at the orange floor of the gymnasium.

Piccolo wondered if it reminded her of anything.

After the moping continued, he took the opportunity to nudge her with his foot. Her nose flared as she sniffed, and she swiped at some of the snot. He crinkled his nose up in disgust, but decided to say nothing, since she was at least responding to him now.

“They’re going to cut the lights off on us,” Piccolo said. He was surprised that they hadn’t done so already.

“I know.”

She didn’t say anything else, and he groaned, head falling back as she went right back into her sullen silence. Chi Chi was never one for silence—it didn’t make any sense. She was practically a walking bullhorn usually. Her classroom was ran like a commune: you showed up on time, you turned in your homework on time, and talking was reserved for class discussions. Sure, she was made fun of for taking Home Ec so seriously (Piccolo himself had pointed out at many meetings that it was a bullshit class, much to her chagrin), but the kids didn’t really seem to mind her.

The Normal Chi Chi would have started rampaging at Piccolo’s rude demeanor, and demanded that he tuck back in his shirt, and conduct himself like a proper teacher. Then he’d tell her to stuff it where the sun didn’t shine—it was the natural order.

He sighed, and shifted in his seat. He didn’t know why he was still sitting here with her. They’d been the two put in charge of the school dance (which he’d fought like hell) but he’d planned to dip as soon as this moronic thing ended. But as he’d been heading out the door, he’d turned around to see his co-worker slumped over, looking suspiciously teary eyed.

He’d felt a pull in his gut, and next thing he knew he was sitting beside her, surrounded by the carnage of hundreds of solo cups and balloons. He glanced down at his phone—nine o’ clock. All of the students were gone at the very least. The woman had managed to stay compose so long as she thought no one was around.

“You can leave,” Chi Chi spoke up, and Piccolo frowned.

“If I leave you here, you might do something rash.”

“Like?”

“Burning down the school or some shit,” he replied. “Woman, I’ve seen you try to pick a fight with the principal because he—and I quote— ‘gave you some weird ass look’. If you’re normally that irrational, imagine you in an emotional state.”

“Very sweet words,” she grunted, tossing her cup to the floor as she flopped back on the metal chair. She crossed her arms across her chest, and jutted her jaw out. “I’m not committing arson, so you can go. I kinda need to stay out of prison; I have a kid to care for.”

“I know, brat’s in my class,” Piccolo retorted. Of course, the term brat was used very loosely. Son Gohan was actually one of the few kids he didn’t hate. The kid actually cared about his grades—though Piccolo had a sneaking suspicion that with the harpy around you didn’t really get a choice.

Chi Chi glared at him. “Whatever. You can go.”

Piccolo’s frown returned, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets. The clothes were big and frumpy, bought at some second hand shop at the last moment. He’d been rather disappointed when they hadn’t offered the slacks in purple, but he had managed to find a nice enough purple shirt, that only had one stain, thank you very much.

He did think about leaving, really. It was what rampaged through his mind his entire time taking up space in the miserable gym next to this miserable woman. But he couldn’t convince his legs to cooperate. He just kept sitting there, doing absolutely nothing, because he knew this wasn’t like Son Chi Chi. The woman was gunpowder packed in a barrel—ready to go. This gloomy silence was unnatural.

“I’m not going to pretend I’m chivalrous,” Piccolo said, voice low and slow as he focused on one of the balloons slowly descending, “but it’d seem pretty shitty to leave you sitting here in a dark room crying.”

“I’m not crying,” Chi Chi snapped, red, blotchy face visible through the haphazardly smeared foundation. It was obvious even to him that she wasn’t skilled at using it, and her mascara was clumped up around the corners. Her hair was in a sloppy updo, with the braid loose and dangling, and her dress was two sizes too big.

“Sure.” He rolled his eyes pointedly at her. She fell back into her stony silence, when Piccolo finally groaned. “Look. If it’ll get us out of this gym any quicker, why don’t you vent or some shit? Aren’t you the teacher over stuff like that?”

“What exactly do you think Home Ec is?” she demanded.

He offered a shrug. “Wouldn’t know. Never took it.”

She pursed her lips and glared at him. “If you must know… my husband’s leaving.”

“The gym teacher?”

“Mr. Son—yes.”

“Good for you. He’s an idiot.” Piccolo had several run-ins with the cheery moron. The guy had big, black, spiky hair, and a goofy grin. He was always incredibly nice, and a general pain in Piccolo’s ass. He’d never really done anything to personally offend Piccolo, but he did hear about him quite a bit from Gohan—and Stars what a mess that man was. A veritable child. He was still trying to connect the dots on how the hell Goku managed to trick someone like Chi Chi to get with him, and then, in turn, produce a kid as decent as Gohan.

Chi Chi huffed. “He’s not an idiot,” she argued. “And it’s not good! What the hell is the matter with you?!”

Piccolo unfolded his legs, stretching them out in front of him. “Fine. I’ll bite. What’s so bad about it?” He glanced over to her, and saw her hands tightly nodded in her lap. Even through the baggy dress he could see her wide hips and muscular stature.

“He’s my husband,” she said, voice slow as she gave him an exasperated look, “and he’s leaving? I don’t think I should have to explain this any further.”

Piccolo shrugged. “I’m not married—I don’t know the nuances you run into with that.”

“Well you’re supposed to be with your partner, for starters,” she grumbled. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Clearly not.”

“… You are so unpleasant sometimes, you know that?” she snarled, and he could see her hands forming into small fists. He gave them an appraising look. He’d fought a lot back in his youth, and he wondered how much of a wallop those things could pack. “Anyways—he’s got a job offer to join with the UFC, and I think he’s going to take it…” Her voice trailed off, eyes softening.

Piccolo didn’t like that expression on her. It didn’t suit her. “So what? If that moron wants to get his brain rattled around a bit, what difference does it make?”

“Because! Either Gohan and I have to completely move and change our entire lives around, or he leaves and we don’t see him as often!” Chi Chi’s lips were in a thin line, and he could see the red returning to her features. “And Gohan likes it here…” her voice dropped to a whisper, “I like it here.”

Piccolo pulled his hands out of his pocket, and scratched at the base of his antennae. “Then stay,” he rumbled. “You’re well liked at this school, Gohan’s doing great here with all of these teachers that you know, and… word around the office is you’re up for a raise.” He flushed. He wasn’t really supposed to mention that part, but she was sitting there, looking pathetic.

“What?” she’d gasped, her chair creaking underneath her as she grasped his arm. He flinched—he knew how cold his temperature was in comparison to a human’s, but she didn’t respond. “I’m up for a raise—really?”

“Yeah,” the back of his ears burned purple as he twitched them. “But keep quiet about it, all right? They’re just impressed with your scores from the evaluations.” He didn’t mention that he knew about it considering his uncle was the principal, and that she’d land him in a shit load of trouble if she ever let it slip she knew.

“I will,” she had a dreamy look on her face now. “I can’t believe this!” He gave her an odd look as she convulsed, before he realized that she was containing a scream of joy. There was a two second warning before she lurched out of her chair, and grasped his forearms, hoisting him up with her. She squealed and swung him around, leaving him a bit dizzy, because holy hell was he heavy and she’d just man-handled him like it was nothing.

He soon felt pressure around his abdomen, and realized it was Chi Chi, her arms encircling him. He saw the foundation smear across his shirt—but what was one more stain? he asked himself. It was brief, her holding him like that. He had a dizzying rush of thoughts, like running his claw tips through her hair and undoing those messy knots, or even just returning the act.

But she’d pulled back soon enough, beaming up at him.

“I really needed this,” Chi Chi was grinning, all teeth and bright eyes as she slugged him affectionately in the shoulder. He rubbed at the spot as he stared at her. “Thanks, Mister Daimao.” She stuck her tongue out at him, and headed towards the door. “You got your wish—I won’t commit arson tonight.” She winked. “See you tomorrow.”

His fingers stayed on the spot where she’d punched him, watching as the gym doors went swinging shut. He wasn’t entirely sure at what point it had happened, but he was certain that he was in love with Son Chi Chi.

“Shit…”


End file.
